


It Comes with the Cape

by ninjanerd1001



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Annoying Captives, Batfam being sassy, Captured, DaddyBats, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Kidnapping, Mostly humor, Sass, batfamily, fear toxin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:30:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjanerd1001/pseuds/ninjanerd1001
Summary: A bunch of one-shots of Robins getting kidnapped.Very little serious content.Mostly just making fun of how often Robins and Waynes get kidnapped.





	1. Uncle J

**Author's Note:**

> This one I wrote forever ago, and I pretty much just copied and pasted it.
> 
> This goes for most of my works.
> 
> So they pretty much all improve greatly (in quality and length) over time.

**Robin is something like nine or ten in this one. Dunno for sure. Somewhere in that ballpark.**

**xXx**

Dick was sulking on the rooftops of Gotham. Why couldn't anyone ever take him seriously? He had been working for a year and a half to give his name some credibility, and yet he was still a joke.

He heard footsteps behind him. He didn't move from his place sitting on the edge of the building. If they made a move, he figured he was capable of handling it.

"What do we have here? A little birdie, here to visit his Uncle J!" An eerie voice reverberated around him. He knew who it was.

"What do you want, Joker?" he asked in an exacerbated tone, not turning around.

"Now, now, don't get short with your uncle. Don't you want to see Auntie Harley?"

Now, Harley wasn't so bad when she wasn't trying to impress the Clown Prince of Crime. She was actually fun to talk to, and Robin had something of a fondness for her, much as he would an aunt. But she could be absolutely unbearable when the Joker was around.

"Maybe some other time." He stood up, pulling out his grappling hook.

"No, no, no! You simply MUST come and see the place we're staying. It's simply marvelous!"

Before Robin could shoot the hook, or do anything escape-wise, really, his "uncle" threw a smokebomb full of knockout gas straight at his face. Instinctively, he swatted it away, but it still exploded on his hand and enveloped him in a cloud of noxious green gas.

He tried to get out of the cloud, but couldn't in time to keep from inhaling some. His vision blurred, and he collapsed, cursing his poor judgement.

xXx

When he awoke, he was tied in an awkward cocoonish bundle of ropes dangling upside-down from the ceiling of... somewhere. His sight was a bit slow in returning all the way. His arms were pinned across his chest, which was a tad unusual.

"Ooooh! Boy Birdie is awake!" he heard a woman squeal. Harley. Thankfully, he didn't have much of a headache for it to aggravate. He did have a bit of one, no doubt from his position upside-down. But it wasn't half of what he'd had in the past.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear it. "Now, Bird-Boy, aren't you glad I made you come and visit your auntie and uncle?" The Joker cackled from somewhere above him.

"Depends on your definition of _glad_." He tried to get a good look at his surroundings, but being upside-down and with blurry vision kept him from recognising it. But at least his head was a bit below eye level, so if he fell on it, it wouldn't be terrible. That was a bit lower than sometimes, and it was still too high to use as a punching bag.

"Do ya know where ya are, Birdie?" Harley giggled. What was so funny about where he was?

"I'm sure you'll tell me regardless of my answer."

"You're in Wayne Enterprises' head honcho's office. You know who that is?" The Joker shoved his face where the Boy Wonder could see it clearly.

"I have a vague idea." _Joy_.

"Ol' Brucie Wayne! I haven't had the pleasure of meeting him quite yet, but I'm sure he's just great. Have you met him? I'm sure you've seen him once or twice on TV, but have you had a conversation with the fellow?"

"I helped him once with a couple of hackers once. He was nice enough, I guess." He wriggled around, trying to get out of his restraints. He was still seeing blurry blobs.

"You guess? What's that supposed to mean, you guess? Young 'uns these days, never speaking straight. Or thinking straight, for that matter."

He got a hand on a birdarang and started to saw at a rope, hopefully an important one.

"Mistah J, aren't ya gonna tell him _why_ we're here?" Harley crooned.

"Ah, yes. You, my boy, are here to tell me how to get into the computer mainframe."

"For what? And why me? There's, like, a hundred other people in this city who are as good as me, and they'd be WILLING to do it."

"But none of them have experience with the Wayne Tech servers. Not like you, Birdie."

 _Dang it. Why'd_ _I_ _have to open my big mouth? Wait, they brought me here BEFORE I said that I'd helped Bruce. So it's NOT my fault I'm here. Not entirely, anyway._

"And why on earth would I help you?" He could start to make out the details of Bruce's office.

"Why, I'm your Uncle J! Why wouldn't you help me?"

He reluctantly decided to go along with the 'family' charade. "Because... Dad says if I hack anything that isn't the bad guys', he'll take away my TV privileges for a month."

"Oh, pooh on him. C'mon, tell your auntie and uncle how to get in, and I'll let you go. How's that?"

 _Fat chance._ "I dunno... Can I have a treat if I do?" _Almost... got it..._

"Of course!" The clown nodded earnestly.

"Well, I guess then--" He fell to the floor, having finally cut himself free. "Not in a million years!" He hit the button that opened the office's windows (they were impossible to break, and Bruce would have a fit) and leapt out into the night, calling Batman on his com as he grappled a couple of blocks away.

He could afford to sit this one out. He still could barely see straight.


	2. Rich Boy's Retreat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick (as Dick, not Robin) finds himself in a pickle.
> 
> Slight angst, mostly humor.

**For my convenience, Dick is seventeenish, and Tim is Red Robin. They both live with Bruce at present. That's all that's important, and** **I** **dunno if that ever actually happens canonically. Dunno about Jason. Somewhere around 16-17.**

**xXx**

Dick strolled casually down the street, doing his best to blend in. Merely existing as a millionaire tended to draw media attention. He was wearing his usual civies: hoodie, tan cargo pants, sneakers, and, of course, sunglasses, along with a knapsack full of notebooks and a laptop. His watch read 10:30. Time to start patrol soon.

He heard a somewhat familiar clattering originating from an alley to his right as a shadow passed over. That would be Red Robin. Must've dropped one of his birdarangs.

Shrugging, he went to the alley to fetch it for Tim. Saved him the trouble of replacing it.

As he stuffed it in his satchel, he heard a voice behind him.

"Hey, there. You're Richard Grayson, right?" He whirled around. The man leaned against the wall, just enough in the shadows to hide his face.

"Who's asking?"

"A friend. One with a proposition." He stepped out of the shadows, smiling and holding out his arms in what was supposed to be a friendly and comforting gesture. He had something of a scruffy three-day beard. There wasn't much particularly noteworthy about him, other than he seemed to smoke some (he smelled a bit of cigarette smoke). "I have a boat, a big one. I'm putting on a cruise for rich boys, like yourself, to enjoy themselves without the... attention of the media."

The young millionaire crossed his arms and eyed the man suspiciously. "How come I haven't heard of this before?"

"If you had, the press would be all over it. I've just been personally tracking down some young men who I thought might be interested."

"I'm assuming this would be, in no way, free?"

"A man's gotta make a living! But I'm sure it would be hardly a dent in your savings."

Something still smelled fishy. He decided to play it safe. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm pretty busy here." He started to walk away.

He was intensely aware of the man's arm now around his shoulder. "Ah, but that's why you need to go! It helps you dodge responsibility!"

That was the final nail in the coffin. He pulled the arm off. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't dodge."

Something hard smashed into the back of his head. Before he lost consciousness, he heard the man say, "Apparently not."

xXx

He woke up with his wrists tied to the arms of a metal chair... somewhere. The muffled sound of a huge engine was all he could hear. When he opened his eyes and the light permitted his headache settle, all he could see was the cold steel that made up the room.

Behind him, a heavy-sounding metal door opened. The roar of the engine grew painfully loud, but died down again as the door was shut.

Dick turned slightly to see who it was, expecting to see the man he'd met in the alley. But it wasn't him. It was a man with a much fuller and redder beard.

"Ah, the rebel awakens." He gave Dick a once-over. "Better go tell Cap." He left as suddenly as he'd come.

_The rebel?_ _Haven't_ _heard that one before._ He looked down at the floor and found that the chair was bolted down. _Apparently SOMEBODY has a clue how to keep_ _people prisoner._

If he had to guess, he would say that he was on a ship. A big one, based on the way that he could barely tell they were rocking. Probably that "big boat" that the man in the alley had bragged about having.

A few minutes after the red-headed man's departure, the door opened again. This time, three men came in. In the lead was the man from the alley.

"Hello there, Richard. I see you're awake."

"Why am I here?"

"Straight to the point, eh? Well, long story short, I actually did have a cruise planned. It's where you are now. But I wanted to have as much profit from this as possible, and I couldn't have anyone telling the media about it. So I decided, ahead of time, if anyone said no, I would drag them along and get a ransom." The man got right in his face. "You're the only one who said no, you know that? The only one. Why is that?"

Dick leaned back slightly. "I was taught not to trust strangers when they tell you to ride their cruise ship."

The man, presumably the captain, chuckled and stood up straight. "You've got sass, I'll give you that."

"It isn't yours to give."

The response was a fist in his gut. He let out an _oomph_ , not regulating his response as he would have dressed as Nightwing. To these men, he was a spoiled rich kid. And spoiled rich kids had a low pain tolerance.

"Now, you're going to be here for a while. You can be a good boy and get along all right. Or you can go on like this, and your time here will be pretty much miserable. What'll it be?"

Dick just laughed. "I can't take a hint. Am I supposed to say something to show that I'll go along with this?"

This time, the punch was aimed at his nose. Having seen it coming, he moved to the side enough so it caught the tender flesh of his cheek rather than breaking his schnozz. It still stung, but he didn't have a bloody or broken nose to worry about.

He felt around the inside of his mouth with his tounge, tasting blood. No displaced teeth. That was good.

The man glared at him. "You little--"

Another man suddenly swung the door open. "Captain, it's time for your lunch with Mister Todd."

As the captain reluctantly left, telling his men to keep watch over the door, Dick wondered, _Todd? As in,_ our _Todd? Jason, if that's you, you're an idiot. I hope you know that._

**\--This was where Part One ended on Wattpad--**

A couple days passed. They didn't feed him. Their logic was that people could go a few weeks without food, so why waste it? They didn't let him loose to stretch, either. That was what got to him the most. He needed to stretch and work his muscles to stay in the shape he was.

He adjusted to the monotony of being alone, with the exceptions of a few visits that were purely for the purpose of taunting him. That is, until the captain came in in a livid rage.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" he was ranting. "One of those... vigilantes!"

By the time Dick knew what he was talking about, the man had already flung the basis for his claim in the millionaire's face.

"This! This is one of those crazy people's... things!" It was the birdarang Richard had picked up the night they'd nabbed him. "We found it in your bag, don't even deny it!"

Dick attempted (unsuccessfully) to wave his hands in a 'slow down' motion. "Whoah, whoah! I'm a bored, rich collector. Why would I NOT have one?"

"Admit it! You're one of them!"

"I'm not! I'm telling y-- OOF!" A punch landed itself in his solar plexus.

He struggled to draw a breath as the man continued in his rage. "LIAR! We found it in your satchel!"

"I'm... not..." He got a backhand to the face for that.

"You are. Admit it."

"I'm... NOT."

This time, it was a punch in the face, right below his eye.

"You. Are."

Dick gave up. This guy was _really_ persistent. He hated it, but he had nothing else he could do. What else was he supposed to do to convince the man? So he did the last thing he would ever want, expect, or think to do.

He cried.

The captain seemed startled when Richard hung his head and started to shake with his silent tears. Gradually, they got stronger, until a sob escaped his lips. Soon, he was full-on crying, an almost-adult reduced to tears before his tormentor.

Not a single one of them was fake; everything he was doing was coming from his actual feelings deep down and the pain from his maltreatment.

It was also greatly exaggerated.

He decided to up his game a bit. "I want... I wanna go home," he mumbled between sobs.

Just before the captain could respond, alarms rang out. "Blast it! I'll be back for you." He ran from the room. **A/N: Censored for obvious causes.** **There's** **a reason the expression is "cuss like a sailor."**

Dick started to rein himself in, wiping his eyes on his shoulders. Wow, that was the first time he'd cried as a bluff in... ever? No, he'd done it before. It had just been a long time. Years, probably.

A couple minutes later, the alarms shut off. Dick bowed his head and waited in apprehension for the captain's return. When the door opened again behind him, he turned slightly at the noise, continuing his 'broken' façade.

He gave a start when they threw a familiar figure at the wall in front of him.

Tim.

No, not Tim. Red Robin. He had to distinguish the two for now.

Red Robin's arms were tied behind him, his eyes were shut, and he wasn't moving.

"Found your friend snooping around abovedecks. Send out a Bat-Signal?" The man's mocking voice, not familiar to Dick, echoed around him as the door shut again.

When he was sure the man were gone, he turned his attention to his brother. "Red Robin!" he said quietly.

To his surprise, Tim quickly pulled his arms under his legs and in front of himself. "Hello, Richard. Your family has been worried about you." As he stood up, he gave the elder a pointed look.

Grayson watched as his little brother freed himself with a hidden blade from his glove. He must've been feigning unconsciousness, as batkids do. "I figured as much. You gonna untie me? I've been here for DAYS."

"So I've heard. At no end." He sliced the ropes pinning Dick to the chair.

Dick tried to stand up, but quickly fell to the ground. Malnutrition combined with inactivity left him both stiff and weak. "Great. Now I'm LAME, too."

"You always were." Dick glared at his sassy brother, but Tim just shrugged. "Your dad, foster father, whatever, is cooler. He runs a multimillion-dollar business. You just run after hot girls."

Dick wanted to say something offensive about Tim's personal life, but at present, he was Red Robin. "Says you."

"Do you want to leave or not?"

"Yes. Now help me get to the door."

"It'll be locked."

"And is that an issue?"

"Not for long."

xXx **(the author is too lazy to think of how they open the door)**

Abovedecks, the ship was crowded with crazed rich boys. They were up late and had a ton of sugar (this is a rich BOY'S retreat, after all). A few of them were confused by the cosplayer and beat-up dude, but most didn't care as they made their way to the railing of the boat.

"Who are those weirdos?" one dark-haired teen asked his friend next to him. The reply was merely a shrug.

"Over there!" the escapees heard someone yell as they reached the edge.

Dick looked down at their escape vehicle bobbing on the waves below. "Sweet ride." Somehow, Tim had talked his way into taking the Batboat. It was moored beside the ship for a quick escape.

"For some reason they didn't cut it loose. But I'm not complaining." He carefully lowered Dick, then less so himself, onto the smaller craft. Tim started the engine as Dick logged onto the Batboat's computer.

As they pulled away, Tim frowned. "That ship is SO not up to code."

Preoccupied, Dick just asked, "Oh?"

"Yeah. You know how many lifeboats they had? Two. Two lifeboats. No way would that be enough for all the passengers and crew. And now they have holes in them, thanks to yours truly." He noticed his brother on the computer. "What are you doing? Updating your Wattpad?"

"Just making a couple emails."

xXx

As soon as the few select journalists got the anonymous email describing a 'rich-boy's retreat,' they were all over it. They drove their rental boats straight to the given location and found three dozen multi-million dollar heirs on vacation on a small ship. They followed the ship all the way to port, where, since the media HAD found them after all, the captain of the ship was forced to give them all full refunds. Upon further investigation, it was found that the ship was illegally obtained, and the captain and crew had been holding a captive (one Richard Grayson). He would be pressing charges.

Said abductee reclined on the couch, enjoying his freedom and Alfred's cooking. That is, until the butler came in and chastised him for eating on the couch. Then he went to the kitchen and enjoyed his almost-freedom and even more of Alfred's cooking.

Jason strolled in, dropping a duffel bag by the door.

"What's with the bag?" Dick asked as Jason helped himself to some foodstuffs.

"Oh, yeah. Did I not tell you? I just got back from this AWESOME cruise."

"The same cruise that I just got back from?"

"Y'know, I _thought_ there was something weird about that whole thing! I mean, he talked to me about it in a DARK ALLEY. That just _screams_ not legit. But I had a bunch of batstuff on me, so I was totally fine. And I had a BLAST." He dropped something on the ground next to Dick's chair. "Think that might be yours."

The elder looked down. It was his knapsack.

"You grabbed it?" He looked at his adoptive brother in disbelief.

"Don't sound so surprised. I knew that you had a ton of random important crap in that thing, and I knew you would beat yourself up about forgetting it. Do you know how annoying you are when you beat yourself up?"

"Admit it, Jay. You were being _nice_."

"No way. I was doing no such thing, and so help me, I will beat you to kingdom come to prove it."

"Try me." Dick shoved the last of his food in his mouth and held out his arms as a challenge. "I dare you."

Jason didn't back down. He tackled his older brother, knocking him out of his chair. They rolled out of the kitchen just as Tim came in, looking for sustenance. He narrowly avoided getting caught in the entanglement of limbs as they fought and tumbled. He just shook his head at the minor annoyance and continued on his quest to gain nourishment.

Life was good.

And for a spoiled rich kid, none too boring.

**xXx**

**Any requests? I know this is a popular topic of fanfictions (abductions and all that).**


	3. Losing the Record

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick ruins his personal record of not being kidnapped.

**This is when** **he's** **around 14. Or something like that.** **It's** **not like** **I** **plan these things out.**

**xXx**

The two men sat in a sleek black van in the parking lot opposite the school. Their target was coming out soon.

The slightly smaller of the two glanced at his watch. "Class is dismissed soon." The other didn't respond. He didn't need to. He only ever did what he was told.

The bell rang. Students swarmed outside, talking amongst themselves. But the leader wasn't worried about the target quite yet. The Wayne boy usually took his time getting outside.

It wasn't long before the leader saw him. He nudged his associate. "There."

"Which one?" The hired help was strong, but a bit slow.

"The dark-haired one. The one dancing to nothing."

"He doesn't have headphones?"

"No, he doesn't, so we can't sneak up on him. I'm going, before he gets to his car. And don't leave this spot unless you absolutely HAVE to." With that reminder, he went off to aquire his quarry.

Dick bobbed his head and swung his whole body lightly to the song in his head-- at present, Poker Face. It was random, but _man_ was it catchy. As he twisted around for the chorus, he noticed something that didn't fit in with the remaining schoolchildren-- more accurately, some _on_ _e._ A man was quickly striding to intercept him. Before he could casually boogie his butt over to Alfred waiting at the car, he found the man's hand on his shoulder. He looked up with what he figured was the appropriate amount of fear and annoyance for a normal teen to show.

The man was brown-haired but graying and balding (he dyed his hair, so his age might be a sensitive subject), wore thick-rimmed glasses (potential weakness in combat) and on the lean side of the spectrum, but he was by no means scrawny or weak-looking (probably relied more on his mind than his muscles, but physical strength is almost a necessity in Gotham criminals). He had a warning look in his eye that told Dick that this wasn't a friendly chance meeting.

"Come along quietly, now, and you haven't got to get hurt." European accent. Not too thick, just barely noticeable. If he had to guess, it would probably be Wales. Maybe the Western part. Maybe not. Accent studies weren't exactly his top priority.

"Uhhh... Who are you?" he asked, playing the 'clueless kid' card.

"No one of consequence." He started pulling the teen toward the street.

"But I have to go home and--"

"Oh, don't worry. You will go home." They crossed the street quickly. Gotham drivers were crazy that time of day. "Assuming your big-shot father pays the ransom." Without any further warning, Dick was pulled into a black van by another man, who had been waiting for them.

He tried to swing his backpack at his attacker, but it was too tight a space. The back of the van was crowded with cardboard boxes. When he bumped into one, Dick realized they were empty. Probably just there to take up space and block out the windows.

He was pinned against the floor as they started driving... somewhere.

 _Aw, man,_ Dick thought to himself. _I've_ _been doing so well..._ _It's_ _been_ _almost_ _three months! Ugh,_ _I_ _should_ _get one of those signs that say, '_ _It's_ _been ___ days since last kidnapping.' Might actually get past 100 someday..._

The man on top of him, presumably the muscle of the group (does two count as a group?), tied his arms behind him.

"Ow! Hey, take it easy! I only have two of those!" Dick struggled to get him off.

"I would recommend that you stop moving, before he decides to knock you out. It's rather unpleasant," the man he assumed was in charge warned from the driver's seat.

Dick stopped, but he didn't shut up. "Why didn't you just bring knockout gas? That would make this whole thing easier." He made a mental note to tread carefully along this line of boneheaded aggravation, or he could end up with a concussion of any severity.

The driver momentarily glared at him before returning his attention to the road. "We had some. But _someone_ forgot to grab it."

"Ooh, that's rough. Was it you? Or this guy? Or did you forget to remind him?"

"Gag him, already."

xXx

_Ooh, goody. Abandoned apartment complex._ _I've_ _only been in these about four times. Usually_ _it's_ _a warehouse._

That was all he could observe before he was blindfolded. But there was plenty that he saw that just took a moment to register. Sure, it was abandoned, but what seemed ruined was structurally sound, for the most part. It looked halfway decent, with only a couple of spots of graffiti. Couldn't have been closed long. And based on the fact that the bad guys' base of operations was here, there couldn't be too many homeless people here.

They dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them. It smelled only a bit musty, further proving to his thought that it hadn't been empty for long. After a moment of walking (about thirty paces, Dick estimated), a door was opened and he was thrown into a chair in a relatively small room (the air currents and acoustics gave that one away). He listened as the door slammed shut and the sound of footsteps receded.

As soon as he was sure he was alone, he pulled his blindfold off with his shoulder. It took him a bit of time (he was a tad rusty), but once it was off, he could analyze it all better.

It didn't tell him much he didn't already know. Small room, about the size of a walk-in closet. Seemed bigger, since it didn't have shelves. Or anything else, for that matter, including windows. The door was probably locked. These guys weren't taking chances. Except the one that he was still conscious... which made him wonder _why_ he was conscious. They said they had knockout gas. They said they just forgot to bring it with them to the school. Which meant that it was probably at their base of operations, which was probably here. Maybe it wasn't _this_ room, but it was almost definitely somewhere in the complex. So why was he still awake?

He didn't bother with the gag yet. Only his captors would be around to hear him, and he couldn't get out with his mouth free and hands tied.

He maneuvered his arms in front of him. That was a good start. Finding the knot, he started working at it.

As he went about his escape attempt, he thought about how worried everyone must be. Bruce would have called the police, no doubt. Batman would be hitting the street, if it was dark enough.

Dick looked at his watch. 5:30. Two hours he'd been gone. Too light out for Batman. Alfred would probably be stress-cleaning.

Alfred. Oh, man. Alfred would probably be blaming himself. Telling himself that if he'd paid attention, he would have seen and stopped it. Or maybe he HAD seen it, and wasn't fast enough. Maybe he'd seen it and called the police with the van description and plate number. Maybe he'd chased them down and was now planning on taking them down in an epic battle between good and evil.

Now Dick was just fantasizing. One of the problems of an overactive (and easily-bored) imagination.

His hands were free. He untied the gag and threw it at the wall behind him, getting to work on the door.

He didn't have his backpack, which would have made things a lot easier, but he _did_ have all the random crap from the pockets of his uniform. Namely, paperclips.

Thirty seconds later, he had the door unlocked. But as he opened it, he found himself face-to-face with the brawn of the two men. Before he could react, a fist flew and connected with his jaw, knocking him unconscious.

xXx

The next thing Dick knew, someone was crouched in front of him, speaking to him softly and comfortingly, taking yet another gag out of his mouth. He scrunched his eyebrows together and shook his head to try and clear it. He tried to make sense of what was going on.

"Hey. It's okay. We're here. You're safe." Cop. Female. He'd never met her before, but even his sluggish, half-conscious brain could recognize the uniform.

Another officer, a man, stepped into his field of view as she went about freeing him. This time his captors had actually tied him to the chair. "We got the men who were holding you. They're in custody now." Thank goodness for _that_.

It hurt to move his mouth. Or think. "Bruce?" he managed.

"On his way," the male officer told him.

"Let's get you out of here." The first cop helped him stand and make his way outside. They were in the same closet he had been in earlier. His earlier guess that the place was only recently abandoned was spot-on. A sign by the elevators told him that it was an apartment complex that he had recently heard about closing on the news.

He got to sit in a police car while they waited for Bruce. He was wrapped in a blanket for shock, but he wasn't really concerned about the affliction. Any cop that had been around for more than a year knew that he'd experienced more than his fair share of kidnappings, and handled each and every one (beyond the first one or two) just fine.

After a few minutes of huddling in the car and regretting losing his record of abductionlessness (if that was a word), the millionaire finally arrived on the scene.

Dick got wrapped in a crushing embrace to a degree that he hadn't felt in almost three months. "Good to see you too." He smiled despite his headache.

Bruce released one arm from his ward but kept the other around the teen's shoulder. "Alfred's been stress baking. He made way too many cookies. What do you say we go eat some?"

Dick grinned at the thought of 'too many' of Alfred's cookies. Usually that meant two with every meal every day, plus some for his friends at school, for at least a week, just so they didn't go 'bad'.

"I'd be good with that. Can we have ice cream, too?" Sometimes, getting held for ransom had its advantages.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin (Tim) is in a bit of a... situation.
> 
> Pretty angsty. Loads of peril. 
> 
> It's a hoot.

Someone was talking loudly. Their voice reverberated around Tim, slowly waking him from his uncomfortable slumber. He felt something pinning his arms behind him and wrapped around his torso, pinning him tightly him to the chair on which he sat. But he couldn't have moved, even if he'd wanted to. He couldn't even muster the strength to open his eyes.   
  
He could start to make out what the voice, a not-at-all-unpleasant male's, was saying. "Now, you may be asking yourselves why you should listen to me, a total stranger. I admit, my claims are a bit extravagant. But doubt no longer, good citizens of Gotham. For I give you the one, the only... ROBIN!"   
  
Bright lights shone on Tim's face, but he didn't move. He was still too weak, and something told him not to.   
  
"And for the right price, he can be YOURS for the killing! Bidding starts immediately!" There was some garbled chatter through some kind of electronic device, maybe a phone. "Ah, yes. He is rather still, isn't he. But he is alive. One moment, please."   
  
Tim felt a tickling sensation on his ear. It didn't stay in one place, instead moving around and being a general nuisance. For a moment, the same gut instinct from earlier kept him still, but he couldn't resist long. He shook his head violently to try to rid himself of the pestilence on his ear.   
  
Laughter echoed around him as more electric chatter joined in the rising cacophony.   
  
By the time Tim was awake enough to register what was going on, his life had already been auctioned off, and his future murderer was on their way.   
  
xXx   
  
His captor seemed to enjoy attempting to engage him in mindless chatter.   
  
"I've been in this business for a while now. Anticipating targets so people don't have to take initiative and hire me. They just have to pay me to get to you profitable target-headed fellows."   
  
"How long have you been doing this?" Robin asked, trying to keep the distaste out of his tone.   
  
The man shrugged. "'Bout two years. Maybe longer. Don't really keep track."   
  
"And I suppose you have a supervillain name to boot."   
  
"I'm no supervillain, but--" He bowed with a flourish. "Auctioneer, at  your service." He glanced at his watch. "The winner should be here soon, although a few people paid to watch. They should start getting here any minute now."   
  
"They paid to _watch_?"   
  
"Yeah. Apparently a lot of people want you dead 'round here."   
  
He didn't much like asking, but he was positively burning with curiosity. "How much did I sell for?"   
  
"What d'you think?"   
  
"Knowing Gotham, probably a lot."   
  
"Are you kidding me? This has got to be my most profitable operation yet! And I've gotten some pretty good moolah. Five million for a guy in a red leotard."   
  
"You should see the old costume." At this point, he was trying to distract himself from the inevitable. He couldn't free himself (he tried four different ways), and they would probably cream him while he was still tied to the chair. That left very few, if any, options.   
  
"Lookie here! Our first spectator has arrived!"    
  
It was Scarecrow. He had a contribution. "Give him a dose of this before they start." He handed the Auctioneer a canister of fear gas. "More enjoyable that way."   
  
Soon, all manner of low-lives and villains were arriving, some giving the Auctioneer additional torments similar to Scarecrow's.   
  
Before long, the winner of the auction arrived: Penguin. With his extensive empire, he'd had more than enough money to outbid everyone in the running.   
  
Of course, he had paid someone else to do most of the killing.   
  
It was an assassin Tim had never seen before, wearing a long black-feathered hooded cloak and a cutlass at each shoulder.   
  
"Raven here is looking to make an impression, not really a buck. So he came cheap. And I rather liked the bird theme."   
  
Robin peered around the Auctioneer. "Taking into account that you're also a bird?"   
  
"I didn't think of that! Good thinking, there. Too bad he'll have to kill you."   
  
"Shall we get started?" Raven drew his swords.   
  
"Wait! My fear gas!" Scarecrow called.   
  
"My dagger!"   
  
Everyone started yelling over one another about their contributions. In the hubbub, Tim could see Raven arrive at a thought.   
  
Once the Auctioneer calmed everyone down, Raven announced, "Let him go."   
  
The general outcry was along the lines of, "WHAT?!"   
  
"I can't kill a defenseless... er... person. It's dishonorable."    
  
Tim regarded this with interest. An assassin with honor. Hard to find these days.   
  
"If we let him go, he'll be out of here in a heartbeat!"   
  
"Honor, Schmonor. Get it over with!"   
  
"He has a point." Everyone looked at Penguin, who was stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I mean, the kid has always fought me with some level of integrity. I have a bit of respect for him, and getting stabbed while tied to a chair is no way to go out." He paused to think. "Chain him to a cinderblock. Leave his hands tied, but at least let him stand."   
  
No one, not even Robin, could believe what they were hearing. Penguin was going along with this?   
  
"At least use my fear gas first, so he's good and scared," Scarecrow interjected.   
  
Penguin nodded, and Robin found himself given a heavy dose of fear toxin and chained to a block of concrete. He stood, staggering a bit from the effects of the toxin, and regarded Raven warily.   
  
"You know, I know Raven, and I don't think you're her." By now, he was starting to see things because of the gas. The edges of Raven's cloak were blurred and resembled molten shadow. His blades were much the same. His face was hidden by the hood, but on a subconscious level, Tim knew with unreasonable certainty that it was horrible beyond comprehension. It took him a moment before he could get the toxin's effects separated from reality, and by then, Raven was attacking.   
  
He was fast, but not unreasonably so. Tim could just barely keep up with his hands tied. Thinking slightly past the immediate danger, he grabbed the block and stepped over it so he was carrying it in front of him. That gave him less of a disadvantage.   
  
"No! He'll escape!" someone from the crowd yelled. Before anyone could do anything, though, he was kicked through a window onto the waterfront.   
  
Warehouse on the waterfront. How original, he thought as Raven stepped forward. His head was pounding, and he was horribly bruised in heaven knew how many places. He could barely stand.   
  
As Raven came forward, brandishing only one cutlass in a two-handed grip, a voice called out, "Start the party without me?"   
  
Tim looked and saw who he dreaded the most: the Joker. With the gas, his features were contorted horrendously. The natural fear that any rational person should have when facing the lunatic was multiplied beyond reason, and Robin found himself backing away slowly.   
  
The Joker laughed when he saw Robin. He looked absolutely terrified. "What'd you do to him?" Someone told him, and he shook his head. "Ah, a classic, that stuff, I'll tell you." Scarecrow nodded his appreciation. "But what's unacceptable is that someone else, an OUTSIDER, no less, is about to kill MY birdie. That's unacceptable! That is my job and mine alone!"   
  
"I outbid you fair and square, Joker!" Penguin yelled from the front of the crowd.   
  
The Joker shook his head slowly. "But that fellow over there didn't." He plowed the assassin aside into the crowd, which surged forward at the sudden movement.    
  
Tim staggered back away from the murderous horde coming at him. They were screaming for his blood, vengeful for all he'd done to them. Their jaws unhinged, their talons extended, their long pointed teeth glinted red with blood, their--   
  
He was falling. He landed with a splash in an inky black soup and immediately started to sink, dragged down by the cinderblock. He landed at the bottom of the abyss with a dull thud.   
  
He struggled to free his hands, but couldn't get them loose. He was running out of air. Dark shadows were coming to get him, to kill him, at the bottom of this pit. He had to get a breath. His lungs were screaming to inhale. But he couldn't, not now. Spots started to cloud his vision just as one of the shadows, a huge, looming creature, drew near and grabbed him. He resigned himself to his fate as he lost consciousness.   
  
xXx   
  
Tim bolted upright, coughing up water. He was on a riverbank... somewhere in Gotham. Next to him sat Nightwing.   
  
"You're alive." He was noticeably relieved.   
  
"I am? Wow, I am. I'm actually a little surprised. I mean..." He trailed off as the full reality of what had just happened sank in.   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"   
  
Tim shook his head, mute.   
  
"Maybe later?"   
  
He nodded.   
  
"That's good. In the meantime, how about we get you some of Alfred's tea? You'll catch your death of a cold if we wait any longer." Dick stood up. Tim didn't move. "What, do you need me to carry you? Fine." He lifted Tim and carried him bridal-style to his motorcycle, Tim struggling, both of them laughing.


	5. Tim's Grand Adventure

**I may or may not have borrowed a couple of ideas from Spiderman Homecoming. You'll probably recognize it when you see it.**

**xXx**

Everyone agreed that Tim needed a good long nap. He was on his fourth night without sleep because of a case he was investigating, and he didn't seem ready to stop anytime soon. Even Alfred couldn't keep him from leaving to go out on patrol the night of the incident.

He _did_  know that he needed to stop and rest, but the case was so pressing that he couldn't. Not without finishing it first.

Naturally, with being out and about came petty crimes, namely small-time robberies. Two guys were busting into an ATM, but didn't seem particularly confident. They kept glancing at their watches and looking around nervously.

Robin managed to get in through the front door of the building without them noticing, which goes to say how bad they were at paying attention. He leaned against the wall behind them just as they started walking toward the door.

"Hey." They froze. "You know, I may have missed most of what went down here, but I'm pretty sure that isn't legal." One of them turned and shot at him, while the other, the one with the money, ran out the door. Tim threw a bola at the second as he ducked behind a shelf to avoid being shot by the first. Maybe they weren't quite as disorganized as he'd initially thought.

"Radio the others and tell them what's going on!" the one with the gun told his companion. "Get them over here if you can!"

There were others?

Pushing the thought aside, Tim threw a birdarang at the man's gun hand, disarming him. The thief, clearly not going down without a fight, ran at him. Robin easily dodged the blow and punched him in the face, knocking him out.

But in his exhaustion, he'd  forgotten about the other would-be burglar. 

He didn't remember until he was already falling to the ground, unconscious.

xXx

The thieves didn't really know what to do with the conked-out crusader. They couldn't just leave him, but what were they supposed to do when he woke up?

It was about five minutes before the guy who was in charge arrived with some initiative. 

"Take him along. We can figure something out later. And make sure he's tied up securely. These guys are known for being escape artists." The rest of the men ran to do as they were told as he started to pack their loot into a pickup truck.

This was an unexpected development, but adaptability could prove to end up even more profitable than their original plan. 

xXx

"Dick, have you heard from Tim?" Bruce asked in the Batcave.

Dick looked up from the jigsaw puzzle he was putting together. "Not since he left. Why? Has he not called in?"

"Not for three hours." The dark knight stood from his chair, pulling up his cowl. "I'm going to look for him."

Dick connected two large masses of pieces. "Think he'll appreciate that?" That gave Bruce pause. "I mean, he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. If you show up right in his moment of glory, what happens then?"

Batman reluctantly sat back down at the computer. "If he doesn't call in the next two hours, I'm going."

"And I'll go with you. But give him a chance to do things himself first."

xXx

One of the thieves looked at the captured Robin over his cards. "He still not awake?" He tossed a fifty-dollar bill into the center of the table. "Call."

"How hard did you hit him, Johnny?" another player asked as he slapped a matching bill next to the first.

"I didn't think I hit him _that_  hard, Mike!" Johnny called back from in front of the TV.

"We'll give him another couple hours," their leader resolved.

Mike lifted his hands in frustration, unwittingly giving the player next to him a glance at his cards. "Then what, Freddie? We slap him awake? We already tried that!"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. And Phil, stop cheating. Mike hates it when you do that."

"HEY!"

xXx

At one point, Robin was somewhat aware of being tied up and hearing voices. He could vaguely recall being hit over the head with SOMETHING, but he didn't pursue the thought. He just gave in to the exhaustion that had been bogging him down for days and slept like a rock.

xXx

"Still no word." Batman stroked his chin in thought.

"Well, we agreed on two hours, didn't we?" Dick placed the last piece in his puzzle and stood up, brushing off his pants.

The Dark Knight stared at him. "Is that your fifth thousand-piece puzzle tonight?"

"Seventh since Tim left. Eighth if you include the one I was working on before that."

"Is it really that boring around here?"

"Tonight, yeah. Tim and Jason are gone, and Damian is learning how addictive the internet is. I'm itching to get out of here." Dick glanced hopefully at the Batmobile. "I don't suppose that I could--"

"Ride? Why not?"

Richard rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I was thinking more along the lines of DRIVING it..."

"Not on your life."

xXx

Phil looked upset, despite his poker winnings piled in front of him. "I'm starting to get nervous here, Freddie. He's still not awake and--"

"Well, what do you propose we do, then? Call a hospital?"

Mike threw his cards on the table. "C'mon, Freddie, cut the guy some slack. We all're getting worried here. If he doesn't wake up, we're looking at first degree murder here."

"Not unless it can't be traced back to us," Johnny suggested. Everyone looked at him. "We dump him in a back alley, and if he wakes up, he's none the wiser, and if he doesn't, it isn't on us."

Mike crossed his arms. "You're just scared that you'll get in trouble 'cause you're the one that hit him."

Freddie looked over at Robin, still oblivious to what was happening. "An hour, and we might have to dump 'im. Because it's not normal for people to be out this long."

xXx

"I'm not getting his GPS signal from the rooftops. Any luck in the Batmobile?" Nightwing asked.

"None," Batman replied. "Head over to the waterfront. See what you can find."

Nightwing went off to do as he was told. "I assume you'll be checking the rough part of town?"

"You assume correctly."

As he leaped from building to building, rooftop to rooftop, Dick tried not to worry about Tim. After all, he was perfectly capable of handling himself. 

But that didn't stop the nagging doubt in the back of his mind. 

He almost jumped out of his boots when Tim appeared behind him.

"WHERE WERE YOU?!" he shouted as he tried to process the development.

Tim rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly. "Funny story... I dunno. I just woke up in a back alley. And I think I was out for a while, because I woke up and I was hardly even tired after the usual 'I got knocked over the head and I'm now waking up still groggy with a terrible headache' stuff."

"What? You got knocked out? When was this?"

"One of the guys at the ATM robbery got me."

"What? You know what, save it for when we get back, then start at the beginning. Bruce," he addressed the Bat over the coms. "You know how we were looking for Tim? Well, I found him."

"He's all right?"

"Yeah, but he's got an interesting tale to tell-- or lack thereof." They headed to the Batcave to try and get things straight.

Where was Jason in all of this, you might ask?

He'd seen Tim go into the building to stop the burglary. When he observed the younger Robin making mistake after stupid mistake, Jason figured, hey, Timbo's messing up. Why not blackmail him about it someday? The entire time, he was filming everything that happened, including when Tim was unconscious and the thieves were talking about how funny he looked when he slept.

He made sure to get every second of that part.

**xXx**

**Well, THAT was anticlimactic.**


	6. Damian's Abduction

The kidnappers came for him after school. As Damian was making his way to Alfred, they grabbed him by his backpack and dragged him to their waiting van, the teen struggling the whole way.

Inside the van, the driver turned around, his face covered with a ski mask identical to the others'.

"Hey, there, squirt," he jeered as the two other men tied his arms behind him. 

"Release me now and this won't get ugly," Damian sneered, curling his lip.

"I'm sooooo scared. Watch out, guys, the kiddie's gonna bust out his ninja moves!" He laughed and turned back around as the others finished restraining the millionaire and one of them, the slightly smaller and of the two, sat in shotgun. "Let's blow this popsicle stand!" He gunned the engine, and they surged forward.

"Try not to kill us all," the wiry thug in shotgun said as he clutched onto the handle on the ceiling.

"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little butt. I've got this thing completely under control." They blew through a red light, leaving a trail of honking in their wake.

"Yes, but you don't have control over the other cars."

Damian worked at freeing his hands as they flew by traffic. He figured he was almost free when the goon still in the back with him noticed his efforts, retied the knots, and added another rope and a layer of duct tape.

Leaving him behind square one.

"We're almost there!" the driver called gleefully as a car stopped just in time to avoid t-boning them.

Almost where?

The answer was soon evident as they swerved into the 'creepy abandoned warehouse' district and pulled in front of a particularly dilapidated building.

"Olly olly oxen free!" The driver seemed much too happy for a goon as he slammed his door open and hopped out. The other two weren't half as talkative or energetic.

"Hey, watch it!" The elated individual exclaimed to the others as Damian bolted for freedom. As he ran past the driver, Damian found an arm around his waist, then he was slammed against the ground with a hand pressed firmly against his chest. The man's eyes, less than three inches away, were covered with lenses like what Damian wore as Robin as he threatened, "Don't do that again. You'll regret it." He turned to the smallest of the three goons. "Watch the brat." He and the other thug went into the warehouse, leaving Damian alone with a single captor, who glared at him warningly.

xXx

Inside the warehouse, Jason and Dick pulled off their ski masks, attempting unsuccessfully to muffle their raucous laughter behind their hands.

Dick doubled over, clutching his stomach and trying to breathe. "Oh... migosh, it's... it's actually... HAPPENING! I thought we were going to be arrested ages ago!"

"RIGHT?!" Jason had another laughing fit and fell over, wiping his eyes.

Dick managed to get himself somewhat under control and elbowed Jason. "You went a little overboard with being a jerk."

"No, I didn't. You guys went overboard in being stoic, intimidating muscle."

"Tim isn't intimidating OR muscle."

Jason shrugged as he grabbed a chair, a lighter, rope, some zip ties, and duct tape. "This can't just be another kidnapping-- he has to actually REMEMBER this! Now help me set up this death trap."

xXx

Five minutes and seventeen escape attempts later, the other two thugs came out, to the evident relief of the goon watching Damian.

"Let's get you settled, pretty boy!" The driver, and apparent leader of these shenanigans, shoved Damian toward the warehouse. The assassin reluctantly went along with whatever the heck was going on now.

As they entered, he could see what appeared to be some kind of elaborate death machine connected to the chair which he was being led toward. What drew the most attention was the huge battleaxe poised to drop and split the chair neatly in two. It was connected to a series of ropes and pulleys that were attached to a cord that the wiry goon was now pulling taut in front of the doorway.

Damian's eyebrows creased slightly in concentration as they forcefully sat him down in the chair and tied him down. This would be interesting to escape.

The cocky leader crouched in front of him. "We've got you, rich boy. Oh, and I would advise against struggling. It triggers the explosives under your chair."

Damian spat in his face.

Wiping the saliva out of his eyes, the man stared at his abductee square in the eye.

Damian fiercely met his gaze.

An eternity of the standoff passed. Then, interrupting the absolute stillness, without breaking the combative eye contact, the head honcho lifted his right hand.

Unblinking, unfaltering, unflinching, he flicked Damian right on the end of his slightly scrunched nose.

Damian snapped his teeth at the hostile hand that had degraded his dignity.

"Ah-ah-ah!" the man waggled his finger scoldingly. "No biting!"

"I swear to every power above, I am going to murder you in the most painful way imaginable to mankind."

"Promises, promises." Garbled chatter from a radio echoed around the warehouse. "Oop, gotta go. Negotiations and all that." He gestured to the smaller thug, who slapped a piece of duct tape over the captive's mouth. Damian grunted in protest as the leader explained, "Can't have you warning your potential rescuers about your doom, now can we?" He turned and left, the other two following close behind him.

Damian turned and looked at his wrists. Sure enough, they were hooked up to a bomb under his chair. He huffed in frustration as he tried to think of what he could do to get out of this mess. Clearly, struggling wasn't an option. Maybe, if he was careful enough, he could possibly reach the knife in his-- No, he couldn't. It wasn't  _in_  his pocket because he was in his cursed school uniform, and knives weren't allowed at his simpleton school. He despised that rule, especially when he actually needed a knife.

Stupid school.

Just as he gave up on combing his mind for ideas how to escape, the door opened. He saw the relief in Nightwing's eyes as he saw his little brother intact. "Guys, he's here!" he exclaimed as he stepped forward.

"Mmmm!" Damian grunted. "Mmm-mm!" He nodded desperately toward the tripwire.

Nightwing understood just before he stepped on it. He nodded and lifted his feet way over it. He made his way over to his brother as Red Hood came in and looked around curiously.

"Not a bad place they've got here. We should see if we can buy it after this is all over." Before anyone could stop him, he stepped on the tripwire. "Oops," he mumbled as the axe came speeding down towards Damian's head.

Damian closed his eyes and braced himself for death. When it didn't come, he looked up and saw a cable attached to a birdarang now suspending it. On the other end of it, he could see Red Robin bracing himself against a pillar and holding up the battleaxe.

"Hurry up!" he grunted as he strained to hold it up.

Nightwing pulled the duct tape off Damian's mouth. "Anything I need to know about?" he asked.

"There's a bomb under my chair that's hooked up to my wrists. That's all I know," he explained as Nightwing reached for his bonds.

Nightwing stroked his chin. "This is going to be interesting. Do you trust me?"

"I don't like how you said that."

"I'll take that as a yes!" Without another moment's hesitation, he grabbed the seat of the chair and yanked it, Damian and all, to the side, rolling away from what would surely be a huge explosion.

But nothing happened.

Damian opened an eye. "There wasn't a bomb?"

Red Hood kicked what had been under Damian's chair aside, allowing Red Robin to drop the battleaxe. The two of them looked at it as Nightwing finished freeing Damian.

"I would say no." Red Robin crouched next to it and started to poke at it. "It's fake," he said simply.

Damian opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. Then he thought of something else. "Where are the men who abducted me?"

"Bruce is on that as we speak," Nightwing explained.

Their coms beeped. "Speak of the devil." Nightwing put a finger to his ear. "Bruce, what's up?... Yeah, we're heading back now. We'll be back in a jiffy." He turned to Damian. "Time to head home. Wanna ride my glider?" Damian could scarcely hide his smile as they went outside and mounted the glider. The Reds were stuck riding their motorcycles while he and Grayson would be flying high over Gotham.

Suckers.

xXx

"A LAZARUS PIT WON'T BE ABLE TO BRING YOU BACK WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU, TODD!" Damian screeched as he chased his older brother through the Manor.

Dick shoveled another handful of popcorn into his mouth as Tim asked, "How long have they been at it?" Dick just shrugged. The two sat on the couch with a batch of Alfred's special popcorn, watching the scene unfold.

"You gotta admit it was fun!" Jason laughed despite the obvious danger he was in. "You've never had a good kidnapping before, and you've gotta have  _something_  to tell around the campfire!"

Tim scooped some popcorn in his hand as the two ran past again. "Five bucks says Damian doesn't catch him."

"You're on." Dick stuffed more of the popped treat into his mouth. "Hey, Tim?" he asked, bits of the stuff flying everywhere. "Won't he come after you, too?"

"Probably."

"And you're not concerned?"

"He already tries to kill me on a regular basis. Why should I be?"

"TODD, STOP RUNNING! I SWORE I WOULD MURDER YOU IN THE MOST PAINFUL WAY IMAGINABLE TO MANKIND, AND I NEVER GO BACK ON MY WORD!"

Dick watched them fly past again. "Well, you've got a while. You might want to stock up on tranquilizer darts while you still can."

"Alfred's got a gun hidden behind the coffeepot. I'll be good."

"And if you run out of ammo?"

Tim pondered that for a moment. He stood up and started towards the munitions closet. "Yell if I need to start running."

"Will do."

"I AM GOING TO RIP OUT YOUR SPLEEN AND FEED IT TO YOU! I WILL SHOVE YOUR STUPID GUNS THROUGH YOUR SKULL! AND I AM GOING TO TAKE YOUR STUPID GRIN AND TEAR IT OFF WITH A RUSTY SPOON!"


	7. The Wayne Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick can't seem to find his brothers...
> 
> There are about four paragraphs of angst, but then it goes back to humor and generally-me-type stuff.

Dick figured that, after the sixteenth episode of Young Justice, he needed to take a break from sitting around alone watching television. He needed company.

He left the home theater room, heading to the kitchen. He could usually find someone there.

No one was in there. Right, of course Alfred wasn't, he was out running errands. But Jason could almost always be found here getting some kind of food, usually bread.

Dick wandered off to Tim's room. Maybe the nerd was currently puzzling over a case there. But, alas, he wasn't. Dick checked everyone's room, to no avail.

He frowned slightly as he checked the TV room he had left. It wouldn't be the first time Jason lured him off just so he could commandeer the television for himself. But no, it was still empty.

Maybe they were training or working on a case in the Batcave. Yeah, that was probably it. Dick went to the grandfather clock and opened the secret door. "Guys, where are you?" he called ahead as he made his way down the stairs. "It's boring up here!"

The chair in front of the computer was empty. Bruce was at his day job, so Dick wasn't expecting to see him, but he was hoping to find Tim doing research, or even Jason watching illegally downloaded movies. Anything would be better than being this lonely.

Eventually, he resigned to pulling a Jason and started watching TV on the Batcomputer. It was bigger than their television anyway.

xXx

Jason had a headache. For a while, that was all that occurred to him as he sat there with his eyes closed. He sat there, trying to keep his cranium from throbbing more than it already did.

Then he remembered what had happened earlier.

He suddenly sat bolt upright, looking around him. He didn't recognize any of his surroundings beyond the fact that they resembled a warehouse. _Okay, that's one cliché down_.

As he turned in the chair he was tied to, he saw Tim behind him to his left and Damian to his right. They were arranged back-to-back in a circle. Well, it was more of a triangle, but who cares about technicalities like that. Their hands were tied behind them and almost touching.

Tim was slumped in his chair, clearly fidgeting with his hands. Damian was already gagged and looked ready to murder someone regardless of their involvement in his plight. By the only visible door, two men in ski masks and holding automatic rifles stood guard. _Cliché number two._

Jason looked at the storage crates. Most of them were unopened, although some seemed never to have been sealed in the first place. What surprised him the most was the logo on them.

Waynetech.

The door opened, and a third man stepped in. This one was in a suit and tie, carrying himself like a businessman. Jason only knew what that looked like because of the time he spent at Bruce's company, and he wasn't sure he liked what it implicated.

"Good to see you're awake," the man greeted.

_Cliché three._

"I apologize personally for the delay. We were waiting for your other brother to get here, but it seems that there were... complications. As of now, we'll be moving on with our plans. If all goes well, you should all be out of here within the next twenty-four hours."

Boy, he's on a schedule and everything.

"In the meantime, though, I have to make some negotiations with your father. Now, if you'll excuse me..." he left, signaling the guards to come outside to talk.

_Cliché number four, and we are good to go._

Not ten seconds later, Tim had freed himself. He stood up, dropping the ropes that had held him and revealing the Swiss Army knife he had used to cut them.

"Get me! Get me!" Jason whispered loudly.

Tim started to cut at Jason's ropes just as the guards walked in.

He placed the knife in Jason's hand and bolted behind a bunch of crates as the guards yelled "HEY!" _\--That's the fifth--_ and started running after him.

Jason quickly sawed through the ropes on his wrists and launched himself at the guards. He was thinking along the lines of, _If Tim can get out, he can get the rest of us later._ Of course, that was placing a lot of trust in Replacement, but that was a risk Jason was willing to take.

Tim climbed a stack of crates and reached the skylight as Jason did his best to just hinder the guards and keep them from shooting his brother.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tim was in the clear. Jason was so relieved that he didn't see a third guard enter with a tranquilizer gun. He heard a gunshot, and suddenly he was on the ground, staring at a rapidly fading ceiling.

xXx

Tim ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He had to find a way to contact someone, anyone. He didn't have his cell phone, and the waterfront-- _Cliché six--_ was deserted-- _cliché seven._

Although he didn't doubt his skills in running, he figured he would have pursuers soon enough, and they would have rides.

 _I just need to find someone with a cell phone!_ he thought to himself. In his rush, he almost missed his solution.

A payphone.

As he fished desperately through his pocket for spare change, he stared at the old device, hoping against hope that the ancient thing still worked-- it looked like it hadn't been touched in years. He almost cried out in relief when he found a quarter among the lint and paperclips. He shoved it in the slot and was relieved to hear the dial tone signaling him to punch in a number.

In the middle of a Paranormal Activity marathon, Dick jumped sky-high when he heard the phone ring. Pausing the movie and giving himself a moment to shake out his jitters, he answered it, admittedly with some annoyance: "Heyo, it's me."

"DICK! You answered! I can't believe this thing works! We're being held in a warehouse on the docks! It's an old Waynetech place--"

"Woah, woah! Slow down, bucko! What happened?"

Dick heard him take a deep breath. "Some guys are holding us for ransom down by the waterfront. The guy in charge left for negotiations not two minutes ago. Unless you want Bruce to lose half his fortune, you might want to get moving!"

Dick ran toward the display case with his suit. "Do you have a more specific location than that?" he asked as he started to change.

"I didn't see what the number on the warehouse was, but right now I'm by 622-A, and I ran west a while. About twenty-five swings."

"Okay, so you were about twenty-five swings east of warehouse 622-A. Anything else you can tell me?"

"Yeah, they've got Jason, Damian, and tranquilizers. You need to--" Tim paused. His speech was slower and slightly slurred as he pseudo-cussed, "Oh, fuuuudge."

"Tim? What's going on?"

"They hit me... with a tranq. Aw... shoot. You... don't you dare...." His voice trailed off.

Dick could hear a loud clattering noise, then an ominous click as the receiver was hung up.

He set his jaw, revved his bike and raced out of the cave as he called Bruce on the comms.

xXx

Tim woke up slowly. As he stirred, he heard a man say, "Well, it's about time." He recognized the voice as that of the man in charge.

He opened his eyes to find him right in his face, almost nose-to-nose.

The man's expression was hard. "You nearly ruined this whole thing, you know that?" he asked. "We almost didn't have time to move you boys." He stood from his crouch in front of Tim, turning away. "You know... that really bugs me. I had everything worked out so smoothly, and you had to go and ruin it."

Jason was just starting to wake up, and Damian was a bundle of duct tape with almost nothing showing but his hair, eyes, and nose. He was almost indistinguishable from his chair, with the only thing not attached to it being his head.

Tim returned his attention to the man, who seemed pretty intent on monologuing.

"I don't like it when people spoil things for me," he was saying. He turned back to Tim and crouched in front of him, this time grabbing his hair in a hand, forcing him to look straight at his captor. His tone grew sharper. "You know that?"

Tim curled his lip. "All right, I'm sorry I spoiled your fun by trying to save myself and my brothers. Happy?"

The man shoved his captive's head to the side and drew a deep breath. "No. No, I am not."

He drew back his hand and struck Tim across the face.

Jason, who had finally woken up, yelled, "Hey!" and Damian let out a slight grunt of protest.

Tim found his next breath driven from him with a vicious blow. Before he knew it, the man was raining punch after slap after jab after clout. He struck his ribs, his jaw, his stomach, anything remotely vulnerable. He was vaguely aware of Jason struggling to free himself as the enraged abductor beat him, on an on. Blow after blow came, striking already-bruised flesh. It got to the point where Tim was afraid that the man would kill him rather than getting the ransom.

However, after what seemed like an eternity, the man stopped himself. He wiped the blood off his fists and straightened himself out. "Must look good for negotiations," he muttered to himself.

He left the room, signaling the guards outside to come in.

Tim groaned, trying to shift his weight to hold him less painfully. He felt a warm liquid dripping down his chin, and wiped his bloody nose on his shirt.

"Tim, are you okay? Besides the obvious, I mean?" Jason asked worriedly.

Tim shrugged. "I got blood on my most comfortable shirt."

"So you're not, like, in immediate danger of dying?"

Tim turned to him and grinned weakly. "Nah. I'll live." He started to pick listlessly at the ropes pinning him to the chair.

Out of the blue, Nightwing dropped on top of the guards, knocking them out. He turned around, and when he saw Tim, his eyes grew wide. "Are you okay?"

Tim winced as Dick cut the ropes tying him to the chair and he started to move again. He stood up, then promptly fell down again. "Gimme a second, then yeah."

Dick freed Jason, then started to work on the cocoon of duct tape that was Damian. "There's cops and an ambulance on the way," he told them.

As Tim started to stand again, Jason stopped him. "No way. Stay there."

By now, Dick had Damian's upper torso free. "Jason, this will take a while--" he started.

Jason cut him off. "I'll stand guard. You're better at taking off duct tape than either of us anyway."

"No, I'm just nicer about it," Dick corrected. He freed Damian's torso and started cutting at his ankles. Damian took a batarang and started to work at his waist.

Tim blinked hard. "Would it be okay for me to just pass out?" he asked.

"Just a couple more minutes, and the police will be here," Dick told him. He was almost to Damian's knees, and Damian was about a third of the way down his thigh.

"Stupid duct tape," the assassin muttered to himself.

"You said it," Dick agreed.

When they could hear sirens approaching in the distance, Nightwing stood up and ran to check for any guards that could potentially put up a fight with the police, leaving Jason to help Damian to remove the last of his cocoon.

As Jason yanked the last of the tape off (Damian yelped), the door opened, and a police officer came in, pointing his pistol around warily. Seeing the boys, he lowered it and asked, "Are you all right?"

Tim sighed exasperatedly and slumped in his chair. "What does it look like?"

xXx

Their captor was arrested during the negotiations he made such a big deal about. Upon learning the captive Waynes were safe, the police moved quickly, and he was behind bars within the hour to await trial.

Tim passed out as soon as they got him in the ambulance. He didn't need a hospital visit any more than he had in the past, but this time it was Tim Drake, not Red Robin, who was hurt. They could afford for him to go this once.

He awoke to see his surrogate father and brothers by his bedside. Even Damian was there, albeit asleep.

Bruce smiled that comforting, fatherly smile and patted Tim's arm. "Good to see you awake."

Tim blinked hard. "I'm on so many painkillers right now, aren't I." It wasn't a question.

Dick chuckled. "How could you tell?"

Tim held up three fingers. "Two things. One, I should be in so much more pain."

"And two?"

"I don't have two."

Dick snorted.

Tim turned to Bruce. "Hey, Bruce, ask me if I'm okay."

Bruce raised his eyebrows amusedly. "Are you okay, Tim?"

"I'll say it now: I'm on so many drugs right now, if I wasn't, I would be concerned!" Tim started laughing. He looked at Dick. "I haven't been this smashed since Jason spiked the once-alcohol-free punch!"

Dick tried his best not to laugh too hard. However, the endeavor was completely fruitless. He had seen his fair share of funny things, but seeing Tim like this took the cake.

Jason covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to shake his phone camera too much. That would decrease the value of the blackmail, and he hadn't had a new addition to his collection in weeks.


	8. Nightmares

**As requested by Tim in** _**The Fangirls Rise.** _

**You might find yourself asking, What does this have to do with anything? And why would Tim request such a thing?**

**Hold your horses.** **I'll get to it.**

**Probably.**

**xXx**

Scarecrow cackled, dancing around the four brothers as they tried to focus on him and avoid the falling debris at the same time.

"Why would he blow up his own lab?" Jason asked as he narrowly avoided being impaled by a ceiling beam.

"I don't think this is his real lab!" Tim yelled from the other side of a huge pile of rubble. "It was just a ruse to get us over here!"

Dick leaped over a huge chunk of ceiling and ran after Scarecrow. "I think it worked!"

"If he was trying to kill us, it isn't working." Damian was standing stock-still with his arms crossed, apparently out of the way of the cascade of falling building for now.

"That's why I'm starting to think that's not his plan. Now we-- GAH!" Tim staggered back from the jet of gas that suddenly billowed around him. "Well, this isn't... good," he managed before he collapsed.

Everyone stared at his unconscious body. "I don't think that was fear gas," Dick announced as another cloud enveloped him. He stumbled away, then fell, unconscious.

Damian looked around, on the alert for a similar cloud to envelop him. When nothing happened, he stepped toward Scarecrow. At that moment, a loud hiss signaled the release of more gas, and he fell over with a quiet clatter of the rubble under him.

Jason wasn't particularly concerned for his own welfare; his mask had air filters built in. However, he was obviously somewhat worried for his brothers.

He turned to face Scarecrow, but the villain was no longer there. "Where are you, you straw-filled creep?" he yelled.

"You really ought to keep better track of your surroundings," a voice behind him whispered harshly.

Jason whirled around, but Scarecrow struck him under his chin, knocking his helmet off-kilter and sending him stumbling back. Before he could fix his helmet, he heard a loud hiss and could feel the toxin filling his nostrils and lungs, sucking his consciousness away like water down a storm drain.

<><><><>

"I can't believe you."

Damian struggled to hold back his sobs. "Father--"

Bruce didn't even look over his shoulder. "No. You failed. There is no excuse."

A gleaming apparition shimmered into existence beside him. "Damian, how could you? You let us all--"

"NO! No, I didn't! I swear, I--"

Dick's ghost shook its head. "You failed."

Damian collapsed to the ground, trembling with silent tears. "I didn't. I swear."

<><><><>

Tim kept running, even though he was absolutely breathless. "Time's up!" the ominous voice announced.

"NO!" Tim screamed. "No! That's-- You didn't--" He was almost there-- he could still reach it-- if he could just run faster--

"And now, he dies!"

Jason yelled in defiance. Then the invisible apparatus suspending him in midair released him.

His fall was short. The agony of the pool of acid he fell into wasn't.

Tim covered his ears, but couldn't ignore his brother's screams as the voice declared, "Now on to the next challenge!"

<><><><>  

Dick stared in horror. He could only watch as their bodies fell to the floor with a chorus of sickening cracks. Only when they had all plummeted to their deaths could he run to their sides.

All of them were horribly still-- every single one of the countless people that had died because of him. He grabbed at the nearest body and flipped it onto its back. He put a hand to his mouth in shock, shaking his head slowly. It was Damian. He'd lived again just to die before his time.

"Why?" he said quietly. "Why is this happening?"

<><><><>  

"Now  _stay there_ while I get-- wait, where's Dami? Dami? DAMI! Put those knives down right now! You could hurt yourself!" Jason raced to his side and took away the blades. He looked around. "Great. Now where'd Dick--"

He stopped when he heard the sound of softly tinkling glass above him. He looked up. "Dickie! What are you doing up there? Actually, better question-- how'd you  _get_  up there?"

The tiny boy just giggled, hanging by his knees on the chandelier. "Not telling!"

" _Dickie!_ " Jason groaned. "Come on, get down. I've got enough to deal with when Damian-- DAMIAN! Leave your brother alone!"

Damian smacked Tim one last time and jumped down off the couch. Tim stuck his tongue out at his back. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop being so mean to him?" He glanced over at Tim, who was already reading his book again--  _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ \-- with a stack of at least twenty books beside him _._ He accepted the fact that Tim was going to be reading a lot of big books and went back to trying to get Dick down.

Except he wasn't there anymore.

"Dick, where'd you go now?" He looked and found him at the top of the stairs, sitting on the banister. "Don't you dare--"

He slid down. Jason ran to the bottom of the stairs and caught him before he could do an acrobatic landing and run away. "What do you say to dinner?" he asked the squirming circus boy.

Dick squealed. "YEAH! Dinner! Dinner! Dinner!" He continued chanting as Jason scooped up Damian and took them both to the kitchen. He set them on chairs.

"Wait here," he told them, then went to go grab Tim.

Tim stood on a chair, stretching to reach the nearest book. On the couch, his stack of books had multiplied a hundredfold.

Jason stood under him. "Timmy, it's time for--" He saw what book he was reaching for just as his tiny grasping fingers grabbed the spine. "NO!" He lunged for the book and threw it into the fireplace beside them. As the toddler's face contorted to cry, Jason picked him up and set him down on the ground. "Trust me, little Timmy. You do NOT want to be reading  _Fifty Shades of Grey._ Not now, not ever. I don't want your sweet little mind ruined."

Tim sniffed. "I'm hungry," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I know, Timbo. But we're gonna go eat dinner now." Tim held up his hands to be picked up. Jason sighed and lifted him onto his hip. "The things I do for you three," he muttered. But something was bothering him: Why would that book be in their library? He knew that Bruce hated the book with a burning passion. No one else was remotely interested in it, and once Jason had learned what it was about, he had come to develop a dislike for the romance genre overall.

So why was that vile book on their shelves?

He distractedly set Tim on the nearest chair and started making Kraft Mac 'n' Cheese. "Do you want bacon with it, Dickie?" When he didn't get an answer, he turned around. "Dick?"

No one, not even Tim, was there.

"Guys, this isn't funny. Come on out," he called. He looked under the table.

Wait, why did they have Kraft macaroni and cheese? Sure, it was an inconvenient time to realize it, but Alfred would have had a fit if he saw them eating that stuff.  _Nothing_  was making any sense.

"Yoo-hoo! Oh, Jaaasooon!" a much-too-familiar voice crooned.

Jason whirled around. At the top of the stairs, a pale face framed with green hair grinned down at him. He held three ropes in his hand, each one attached to a toddler dangling over the railing. "Nice to see you, boyo!"

Jason didn't move. "When did you get here?" Then he looked around himself, bewildered. "When did  _I_ get here?" For some reason, he was now in the living room, despite not having taken a single step in any direction. What the heck--?

The Joker smiled down at the boys he had captive. "Those are some nice brothers you've got there. It would be a shame if someone were to--" his gaze flickered to Jason-- "ruin them."

"I swear, you white-faced freak, if you don't let them go RIGHT NOW--" He realized his mistake.

The Joker cackled. Then he let go.

But Jason didn't run forward-- nothing was right about this. The Joker wouldn't come to the Manor just to drop his brothers down the stairs. Bruce wouldn't have  _Fifty Shades of Grey._ Alfred would go crazy if he saw that they had store-bought macaroni and cheese. And that wasn't even  _considering_ the fact that his brothers were all less than five years old.

The toddlers screamed.

And then reality shattered.

Suddenly, he was a street rat being tazed by a trigger-happy cop again.

He was under the crowbar, feeling the agony of the cold metal against his skin.

Then he was waking up in the Lazarus pit, his nerves roaring with pain as much as he was.

He was racing after his brothers, trying to reach them to warn them about the trap they were about to spring before it was too late.

He could still hear yelling, but it was much less shrill. It was also less consistent. One voice rose and died, then another took its place. It took a moment to recognize one of the sounds as his own, but that didn't explain the others.

Jason shook his head as the rushing torrent of images and sensations threatened to overwhelm him. This couldn't be real. The memories were correct, yes, but he wasn't actually  _experiencing_  any of them.

That just begged the question: What, then, was he actually experiencing?

The screams died down. "Jason," someone said. "Jason." Except it wasn't a memory; he was actually  _hearing_ it.

Which meant that the real world was still going on.

Jason's eyes snapped open. His real, physical ones. He could see a dark lab around him, and he was lying at an angle on a hard metal slab. Tim was crouched in front of him, freeing his ankles from the restraints pinning him to the table.

As he became more aware of himself, he could feel the thick, oily sensation in his lungs that meant he'd inhaled fear toxin. He could see a breathing mask on the ground that had presumably been over his face as Tim finished releasing him, and he stepped off, breathing heavily. He rested his hands on his knees to try and regain his senses. Dick and Damian had already mostly recovered. 

"Anyone know what happened?" Jason panted.

"Scarecrow was doing an experiment," Tim explained, now typing on the computer.

"That's  _very_ helpful," Jason said sarcastically.

"He told me about it. He said he was--"

"What do you mean, he  _told you_  about--"

"Do you want to see the recording?" Tim asked in an annoyed tone. "Then I won't have to deal with you interrupting me.

"There's a  _recording?!"_

"Scarecrow had a bunch of cameras set up to record the data for his experiment."

"Where even  _is_ Scarecrow?" Jason snapped.

Tim pointed behind him. Jason turned around and saw the unconscious villain cuffed to one of the tables.

Jason rubbed his temples. "How much did I miss?"

Tim tapped a few buttons on the computer. "Just watch the video."

**A/N: This is going to have more detail than you would normally see in a low-quality video because I wanted it to be more interesting. And, of course, Timmy would want a cool video of himself to have to prove to his brothers that he isn't totally lame.**

Scarecrow was leaning over the screen, watching various heartrate and oxygen level monitors of the boys and occasionally typing or clicking something.

Tim looked up with bloodshot, watery eyes. Despite their obvious condition, they darted around ceaselessly, absorbing everything they saw. "Scarecrow," he said in a hollow, but not quite weak, voice. His breath fogged up the mask over his mouth and nose.

"Ah, Red Robin. You're awake." His smooth speech was slow and relaxed, but also somewhat cheerful.

"What..." Tim shook his head to clear away the image of a giant mutant tortoise karate-chopping the computer behind Scarecrow. "What are you doing with us?"

"What I haven't gotten around to in a long time-- research, pure and simple." 

"What kind of research?"

"Dreams. Or, more accurately, nightmares. I wanted to see the effects of my toxin on the unconscious mind. And you four have provided me with such _beautiful_ data."

"Um... thanks?"

"You're very welcome. But now you're awake, and that means I'm not getting the data I need." Scarecrow stepped toward Red Robin, holding a hypodermic needle containing what was presumably sedative of some sort.

As he drew near, Tim pulled away from his extended arm. "How about no." He struggled against his restraints.

The needle drew near his exposed neck. "Stop struggling. You'll be asleep soon." It pressed against his skin.

Tim grabbed Scarecrow's wrist, his arm now free. "How about no." He flung the thin villain away from himself into the computer, giving himself the time to finish releasing himself from his bonds.

Scarecrow staggered to his feet as Tim stood on shaky legs to confront the villain. "You can't trust your own senses," Scarecrow hissed. "Yet you think you can challenge me?"

Tim straightened suddenly, staring straight at Scarecrow. "You. Don't. Scare. Me." He strode over to the thin man, who was quickly losing confidence and backing away. Tim struck him one last time across the jaw, and he fell, unconscious. Seeing that the villain was sufficiently down, he strode over to the computer and started typing.

Jason blinked as the video came to a close. After a moment, he said, "This is a load of--"

"Language, Jaybird," Dick interrupted.

"Well, it is!" he replied. "This is the biggest 'load of' I've ever seen in my life."

Tim shrugged. "It is what it is." He held up a thumb drive. "This also has our hallucinations on it."

Jason threw his arms in the air. "How the heck did he get our hallucinations?"

"He used an electroencephalogram to--"

"Just stop right now because none of us will have any idea what you're talking about. Let's just go." Jason turned to leave, then stopped. "Where's the exit?"

Tim walked the opposite way. "Over here."

<><><><>

They dropped Scarecrow off at Arkham. As they rode their bikes back to the manor, Tim pulled slightly behind Dick and Damian and motioned for Jason to do the same. Jason slowed to drive alongside him.

"This is a private channel, by the way," Tim started.

"Okay?" Jason said, curious what was going on.

"You know how I told you Scarecrow downloaded our hallucinations?" Jason nodded. "I watched yours. ...It was cute."

Jason flushed. "Are you serious? You  _watched--_ "

"I saw that your blood oxygen levels were low and got curious what difference it would make." He chuckled. "I guess now we know." Giving Jason a sidelong glance, he added, "I would watch the others', but I suppose you wouldn't want my sweet little mind ruined." He accelerated to catch up with their brothers.

"Come back here, you little--"

"We're on the shared channel now, by the way."

"Good. Now they can hear your screams while I beat you to a pulp!"


	9. Sleeping with Sirens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what.
> 
> This book still exists!
> 
> And this time, it's a really long chapter. Like, over 3500 words.
> 
> HOWEVER, since it's so long, and because I have other things to do with my time, I didn't edit it as much as I sometimes do. So it might not... flow as much as I'd have liked.
> 
> And I do plan to update more often than I have been. I have several ideas that I'd been lacking, so yay. Updates.

The total silence of the night filled the darkened museum, settling over the lightless exhibits and lifeless cases. Even the air was still as the night watchman shined his flashlight around the quiet glass, gems, ancient artifacts, and jewelry. His muffled footsteps were the sole noise penetrating the soundless void.

He passed the Ancient Egypt exhibit, noting that everything he passed was in its proper place. Rome and Greece were the same, and so were the Renaissance and Victorian England. All was quiet, and all signs pointed to the night being just like any other quiet time.

He didn't hear the thief drop to the floor in the room just behind him.

The dark, silent figure stole across the room away from the guard, heading straight for the exhibit on Ancient Egypt. She took no time in finding what she was looking for: the Cat's-Eye Necklace. Sure, she already had three. But she was a sucker for a good cat trinket.

The woman carefully placed her palm on the glass case, looking carefully for a moment to make sure of its position, the twisted it. A hole slightly larger than her hand appeared, and she retracted her hand with a perfectly round piece of glass connected to her glove. She couldn't resist a smug smile as she pulled out her prize.

"You know, I'm pretty sure that's mostly illegal in all developed countries."

Catwoman turned around. "Robin. Nice to see you again."

"I'm not sure you mean that, but I'll take what I can get." He stepped out of the shadows. "Now the question is whether you're just going to put that back or if I'm going to have to stop you from taking it."

The thief looked at the pendant in her hand. "You know, I think I might just have to leave now. Avoid the trouble."

Robin reluctantly pulled out a birdarang. "I figured you'd say that." He sighed. "And to think I thought I might get an hour of sleep for once," he muttered.

"Freeze!"

At the guard's shout, Robin turned around gratefully. "Thank you for finally showing up. I was just--"

"I said  _freeze!_ " the guard snapped.

"Hey, I'm one of the good--"

_Bang, bang!_

Robin rolled out of the way of the bullets. "Hey, chill!" He leaped forward and kicked the gun out of the guard's hand. The watchman immediately flushed and ran away. "Stupid trigger-happy security guards," Robin muttered.

He turned around and sighed again. "Oh. Of course she's gone." He threw his hands in the air. "Isn't that just peachy." He fired his grappling hook at the skylight where he'd come in and disappeared into the night.

Catwoman rested her chin thoughtfully on the heel of her palm, perfectly comfortable with the closeness of the sides of the vent that was her hiding place. "Sounds like birdie needs a break," she murmured ponderously. Then a broad grin spread itself across her face, she snapped her fingers, and she could hardly keep herself from laughing aloud as a brilliant, perfect idea struck her.

xXx

"We don't do favors, especially not for kids."

"Don't tell me you haven't done stuff for Robin, Ivy."

"I did it because he had common sense!" Poison Ivy snapped.

"I just don't get why ya wanna help the kid so much. There's a difference between cuttin' him some slack an'... whatever you're thinkin'."

"Harley. Have you  _seen_ him lately? He's running on less than an hour of sleep a night. He's dead on his feet. If he doesn't rest soon, he could actually be killed."

"One less trouble for us," Ivy argued.

"Don't you remember what happened last time a Robin died?" Catwoman growled.

Her two friends grew quiet. "She does have a point," Harley said reluctantly.

Ivy sighed. "All right, Selina. What do you want us to do?"

xXx

The secretary smiled pleasantly at the thin, short-haired woman as the woman, probably a parent or aunt of a student, walked in. "Can I help you?" she asked politely.

"I'm here to pick up my son Tim," the woman replied.

The secretary turned to her computer and started typing. "Last name?"

"Drake."

The secretary continued typing. "One moment." She reached for the phone. "He should be in class now. I'll call for him."

The woman shook her head. "No, that's fine."

"But--" The secretary noticed another woman in a long overcoat walking past the office door and stood up. "Ma'am--" she started to say.

A third woman opened the door suddenly, narrowly missing the hapless secretary. "Go to sleep," she said softly, then blew a powder from her palm into the poor secretary's face. Though she stumbled back slightly, upon inhaling the dust, she fell backward into the first woman's arms.

"Let's go," Selina said confidently as she gently laid the woman on the ground.

"I still don't see why you get to call the shots, or why you needed to come in the office," Ivy told her.

"I have my reasons," Catwoman answered, strolling confidently toward the cafeteria.

xXx

"Hey, kid, got my lunch money?"

The blonde teen set his tray nervously on the table. "N-no. I left it at home."

He found himself grabbed by his shirt collar and slammed into the table. "I want my money, Ives," the bully said in a dangerous tone.

"I'd like to see a school without people thinking they're so much better than everyone else, but we can't all have what we want." The burly teenager whirled around, still holding his victim's shirt in one hand.

"Hello, students. Class is in session." The entire cafeteria became silent as the population of the room stared at the three women standing just inside the doors.

Harley bounced toward the frozen bully, her mallet resting comfortably over her shoulders. "We're looking for a birdie, goes by the name of Robin. Heard of 'im?" she asked in a cheerful tone.

The bully stuttered a reply as she tapped his hands with the mallet to lower them from the gangly nerd. "I-- I mean, he's-- I've--"

"Oh, shaddup," Harley snapped. She slammed the giant hammer into the table next to him, cracking it and almost smashing a tray of food. "We just want the birdie. You guys can just hang out here, all quiet-like, until he shows up."

Catwoman looked around the room, careful to ensure the room had no rafters and only two vents, clearly visible. He'd either have to come in through the doors or the windows, and his entrance would probably have to involve smoke bombs. Smoke bombs they could handle. She couldn't resist a smile-- this was going to work.

"Now we just have to wait for him to get here," she told her friends quietly.

There were quiet murmurs throughout the cafeteria as the students talked about the situation they were suddenly thrust into. Some were wondering when Robin would show up. Some questioned his ability to fight the three villainesses at once. Some asked each other if they thought the police would intervene soon, since about thirty students had already texted the police department about the situation. Most were largely unconcerned about their own welfare, since most of them had already experienced a similar hostage ("hostage") situation before, but there was, of course, some level of tension among the teens.

And so the waiting game began.

xXx

"There's a stage one lockdown in progress. The Sirens have the cafeteria held hostage."

There was a collective uproar from the students. "Not again!" someone whined.

"But I need to go to my locker!"

"Ha! Take that, chemistry test!"

A student raised their hand. "What are they here for?"

"Apparently they want Robin. That's all we know at this time."

Another student raised their hand. "So we might be here for, say, another hour or so?"

"Who knows. But in the meantime, we can finish those imaginary numbers worksheets I handed out!"

A groan came from the students at their desks.

"Look! It's Harley Quinn!" a student by the window suddenly yelled. Everyone crowded by him, staring at the psycho as she marched past the window with a mallet on her shoulder.

"Here, birdie birdie!" she called.

No one noticed the teen silently open the door to the classroom and shut it quietly behind himself.

Tim ran to his locker as quietly as he could, careful to duck under windows as he passed. When he got to his locker at the end of the hallway, he opened it slowly and removed the bottom. He pulled out the box that was under the false bottom and darted across the hall into the bathroom.

Thirty seconds later, a vent opened, and a small, brightly-colored figure climbed into his means of entrance.

xXx

Vines had sprouted around the cafeteria, draping over the walls and starting to spread over the tables and the students unfortunate enough to be sitting too close to them. A number of students grouped around Harley, who had already returned from her patrol of the school, and were asking her questions about who-knows-what. Catwoman was perched comfortably on the serving counter, and Poison Ivy reclined on a small throne she'd grown in the past half hour.

Everyone was waiting.

"You're sure he'll show up?" Ivy asked Selina doubtfully.

"Give him time. He's only human," she replied calmly, wrapping and unwrapping her whip around her hand. She watched the vents out of the corner of her eye, keeping her eyes focused on the main doors. He would probably come in the vents, but they were on either side of the door, and by watching it, she could see both vents at the same time in her peripheral vision.

"I don't like wasting my time, especially on something I barely even want to do," Ivy continued.

"Yes, well, I'm sure--" She stopped.

"You're sure  _what_?"

Catwoman couldn't keep a small smirk from spreading across her lips. "He's here."

There were two muffled  _clinks_  and a quiet hissing noise, and suddenly the cafeteria was filled with smoke.

"Harley! He's by the left vent!"

"I gotcha, kitty!"

"Ivy, get ready. He'll be here soon."

"I hope you know what you're doing."  
  
"Hey, birdie! YOW!"

She let her whip dangle at her side. "Here he comes."

It was quiet for a moment as they peered into the shroud of smoke over the cafeteria. All they could hear was the sound of coughing students.

Catwoman narrowly dodged a green fist flying at her face.

"Bird boy! About time you showed up."

"What are you doing here, Catwoman?" Robin asked in a clearly annoyed tone.

Selina pouted. "Why, Robin, I thought you'd like to see your aunt kitty."

"Clearly, you're here for me. Let's just get this over fast, shall we? I have a chemistry quiz next hour."

"Can we not?" a student yelled from the smoke.

_Whump._

Robin, who had just been slammed into a brick wall by a wall of plants, struggled to free himself from the vines wrapped tightly around him. "Ivy..." he said in a warning tone.

"Oh, come now. It's not the worst I've done to a bird." The red-haired, green-skinned woman walked toward him slowly. "We're just here to give you a break."

He struggled to pull away from the wall as the vines grew farther and farther around him. "Yeah, this is totally giving me a break."

She sighed as she stood in front of him. "Kids these days. Never appreciating when someone wants to help." She leaned down, holding her hand level in front of her mouth. She pursed her lips.

Robin leaned back as far as he could, struggling harder than ever. "Let me go!"

Ivy blew the powder on her hand into his face.

Catwoman  _tsked._ "See, you're losing your edge. You should have escaped by now. And now you're just being captured."

His vision blurred as he fought for consciousness. He'd done it before. He'd escaped... He'd stayed awake... He'd... gotten...

Poison Ivy and Catwoman shared a smile as Robin's head slumped forward and he succumbed to the toxin's effect.

"Harley!" Selina called.

"I'm comin'!" she replied with a slight slur.

"But what about the chemistry test?" a student whined.

"You'll figure something out," Ivy told them as her vines lifted Robin.

"Stall," Catwoman suggested.

"Bye, Harley!" a few students of assorted genders called.

"Bye, kiddos! And don't forget what Auntie Harley taught you!"

xXx

"What exactly were you planning, here?"

Catwoman sighed. "Is it so crazy to think that I just want to let him sleep? He looks so peaceful."

"He's lying on my plants," Ivy said grumpily.

Selina crossed her arms. "You know what, Isely, maybe your plants aren't that big a deal for once."

Ivy flung her arms in the air. "Fine! They're  _my_ vines holding him and  _my_ foliage being his mattress, but sure, I'll let  _you_ call the shots!" She stormed off.

Catwoman sighed and looked over at Harley, who was presently miming smacking Robin with her hammer. Robin was completely wrapped in vines from his shoulders to his ankles, curled up on a bed of large exotic leaves. His mouth was opened slightly as he slept, and she could hear faint snores with each breath he took.

As Harley raised her mallet again, Selina took it gently with one hand. "It stopped being funny the hundredth time," she said quietly.

Harley huffed loudly. "Fine," she whispered back. She stomped off into the warehouse where they'd set up their hideout.

Selina crouched next to the sleeping Robin as his chest rose and fell steadily, relaxed in the gentle rhythm of his autonomic functions. She rested her hand gently on the top of his head, smiling softly as he sighed deeply and moved slightly closer to her.

"See, this is why you needed to stop: the rest. You were running yourself into the ground just as much as Batsy does."

"Selina," Ivy called softly.

The thief gave Robin one last smile before standing up and joining her friend. "What?" she asked.

"The powder I gave him should have worn off by now. He should be waking up at any--"

Selina cut her off. "He's not going to wake up for a while. Did you  _see_ the kid earlier? He's exhausted. I'm amazed he didn't pass out where he stood." She glanced back at him. "Give him another few hours to sleep. He'll wake up in his own time."

"He's already been here for five. How much longer--"

"Just let him sleep," she chuckled. "It'll work itself out."

xXx

"He's been asleep for twelve hours."

"It's getting late. You should consider sleeping, too."

"Harley's already in bed. I just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing."

"It'll be fine. He'll probably sleep through the night, and even if he doesn't, I'll be right here to talk to him."

Poison Ivy looked at her friend for a moment. "Then what?"

"I'll probably let him go, once I give him a thorough talking-to."

"Just like that? You're just... letting him go?"

Selina tilted her head. "What else would you have me do?"

"You have Batman's sidekick at your fingertips, and you're going to just let him walk out of here with the location of our base and whatever else we accidentally let him learn?"

Catwoman crossed her arms. "I can blindfold him and let him go somewhere else," she offered.

Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, never mind. Just... let me know when he's awake."

"I will." Ivy walked to the other room to sleep, and Selina went back to Robin and sat down next to his quiet form. His rhythmic breathing never wavered from its steady pattern of his chest rising, falling, rising, falling. She couldn't help but relax, watching him sleep so peacefully. It wasn't long before her head dipped, too, and she fell asleep beside him.

xXx

"Are ya sure she won't be mad at us for takin' the birdie?" Harley asked, leaning against her mallet.  
  
Poison Ivy smirked. "Oh, she'll be livid. She'll get over it, though."

"Yeah, this is the kind of thing I know she'll get over  _real_ fast."

"Nobody asked you, bird boy," Harley told him.

"No one asked me if I wanted to get kidnapped either, yet here we are."

"Oh, shaddup."

"The Bat will be here soon."

"What even is your plan, anyway?" Robin asked. "'Kill the Batman'? Not like that one's gone wrong before."

Her eyes narrowed at the sidekick, dangling upside-down from the top of the small suspension bridge by a mass of tangled vines and other plant life. "You really don't know when to shut up, do you?"

He smirked. "I just had at least seventeen hours of sleep. I'd be surprised if I wasn't talkative."

Ivy thrust her hand out toward him, and the plants came to life. In a heartbeat, they'd grown over his mouth, and he was left wordless and, frankly, unimpressed.

"Now, that was just mean," a voice said clearly, but seemingly from everywhere at once.

"Which one o' you Bats is that?" Harley demanded, brandishing her mallet threateningly in no particular direction.

"The one that decided to look here first," was the cryptic and sassy reply.

"So Nightwing, then," Ivy concluded.

"You got me there." He still didn't show himself.

"Well? Aren't'cha gonna come out?"

"That would ruin my element of surprise."

Ivy sighed. "Can we just get this over with? You're just drawing it out at this--"

"YIPE!"

"Harley?" She turned around to find the psychopath no longer standing behind her. "Oh, splendid." A vine rose up behind her as she turned slowly, looking for the elusive vigilante. "Where are you, Nightwing? You have a date with my plants I'm looking forward to."

"Wow, Ivy, I thought you had better threats than that. You're losing your touch."

"Get out here and fight. This is getting really old really--" She whirled around, swinging her arm to command her vine to lash out similarly. It slammed into the vigilante, sending him flying in a very different direction from where he'd been aiming. "That's more like it!"

Nightwing crouched readily, smirking slightly. "Look, I'm here for my buddy. Maybe we could do a little trade-off? Buddy for buddy?" Robin let out a muffled noise of protest, probably for being called a 'buddy'. "Pal for pal?" the acrobat added, just to rub it in.

"I don't think you're in much of a place to argue, Nightwing. I believe I have your  _buddy_ in a much more--"

"Were you going to say something about me being in a more vulnerable position?"

Ivy whirled around. "How did you--"

"Get out? Nightwing started to cut me loose while you two were yelling at him to show himself. He got it cut enough for me to be able to finish myself while he kept you occupied. And now, if you'll excuse us--" He threw down a smoke pellet. "We really must be on our way."

xXx

"Selina told me what happened."

"She did, did she?" Tim took an unnecessarily long and slow slurp of his orange juice.

"She knew you needed rest and that you wouldn't get it unless you were forced to."

"Ah, yes, the classic 'Let's kidnap my boyfriend's kid so he'll finally sleep' shenanigans."

"She was just looking out for you, Tim," Dick chuckled. "I've heard worse reasons for abductions."

"And I missed three classes and a chemistry test, all with no excuse. What do you say to that?"

Bruce lifted an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Your school  _was_ under threat. Perhaps you decided that it would be in your best interest to return home for the afternoon, being the son of a billionaire and all that."

Tim sighed. "I  _really_  want to say I'm too tired to argue, but I think we all know that isn't true."

Alfred set a plate of breakfast casserole in front of him. "I'm just glad to see you're done drinking that heart-attack-in-a-mug in such toxic quantities, master Tim."

Tim picked up a fork with a piece of egg on it. "I'll still be drinking coffee, Alfred," he chuckled.

"Not on my watch, sir. You'll be getting your full eight hours of sleep from now on," he said firmly.

Tim raised an eyebrow skeptically. "When?" he asked with his mouth full.

"You manage to fit everything else into your schedule. I'm sure you'll figure something out." He poured more orange juice into Dick's glass.

"I'm just glad that worked out as nicely as it did. Imagine if they'd just kept you in that warehouse where you'd been. We would've taken forever to find you." Dick took a swig of juice.

"Selina actually wanted to let you go," Bruce interjected.

"And why didn't she?"

"Isely and Harley took you while she was asleep. She was going to let you rest for a while longer, then take you somewhere else to let you go, but she woke up and they were gone with you."

"Mm." He shoveled another forkful into his mouth.

"Do you want Alfred to make another casserole just for you?" Dick chuckled. "That's, what, your fourth piece?"

"I missed lunch  _and_ dinner yesterday. Of course I'm hungry."

"There is plenty left, master Tim. Do try to avoid choking, however."

Dick leaned against the counter next to Bruce. "I just wish I could hear the conversation Selina is having with those two."

Bruce smirked slightly. "I'm sure it's quite the scene."

xXx

"I can't believe you used him as bait!"

"We already had 'im. Why not--"

"And you didn't even do a good job of it! All you did was make it a bigger headache for everyone!"

"It was your idea to--"

"To let him sleep for a while!" Selina snapped. "You're lucky he slept as long as he did before you took off, or I would have more than a few strong words for you."

"Oh, c'mon, kitty, it's not that bad."

"Oh, you want to argue? You made friends with teenagers that you were supposed to be holding hostage because you were  _bored_."

"You held a kid hostage because you wanted him to take a nap!"

No one noticed the quiet figure in the rafters above them, laughing silently as he rewatched the video he'd taken of the entire event.

"This is perfect," Red Hood chuckled. "Enough of these, and I'll be able to make him do anything." He watched as Selina placed her hand on Tim's head. "It's just too easy."


End file.
